


someone like you

by lifeofsnark



Series: Fiveya Kinkmemes & Prompts [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Fingering, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Secret Identity, Sex Work, Vanya gets off on the brother angle, Vanya hires sex workers who look like Five, a touch of angst, aged up character, p in v, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofsnark/pseuds/lifeofsnark
Summary: Vanya had a routine.Really she had lots of routines; little habits that defined her world in concentric, expanding loops, like ripples walling in her life. She made sure to water her small houseplants every Wednesday. She re-upped her metrocard on the first of each new month. And twice a month, she sorted through the responses to her personal ads and picked the men she would sleep with.Men who happened to look like her long lost brother.~~~Vanya ends up paying for more than she bargained for.Spoiler alert: She doesn't sleep with anyone else on screen, but it's referenced. And she *thinks* she's sleeping with someone else, so. You know. Proceed with that knowledge.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Fiveya Kinkmemes & Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919707
Comments: 24
Kudos: 172





	someone like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiveyaaas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/gifts).



Vanya had a routine. 

Really she had lots of routines; little habits that defined her world in concentric, expanding loops, like ripples walling in her life. She made sure to water her small houseplants every Wednesday. She re-upped her metrocard on the first of each new month. And twice a month, she sorted through the responses to her personal ads and picked the men she would sleep with. 

Men who happened to look like her long lost brother.

When she found men on kink websites, plenty of them wanted to fuck her for free. That was simple and easy. They would show her their most recent STI test records, she would show them hers, and then they would begin. 

Sometimes, when there weren’t any tall, dark-haired Doms looking for anonymous sex, she would pay for it. 

No matter her transaction status, all the men had to abide by these rules:

  1. They had to have their arms covered, preferably with a collared button-up shirt. They could unbutton it to show off their chests, but the sleeves had to stay down.
  2. They had to be clean shaven.
  3. And after both parties had finished, the men needed to kiss her on the forehead, tell her that she was their favorite little sister, and then immediately leave. 



She didn’t have room for the fantasy to be broken by them lingering and doing something utterly un-Five like. And it wasn’t like she could afford to pay the sex workers for longer than an hour, anyway. 

With her small, sad salad and a mug of hot tea, Vanya sat down at her laptop to begin sorting through responses. There was the usual spam on the kink sites: fifty year old men with jowly faces and Republican meme-icons wanting to fuck her. Wannabe Doms telling her to kneel and open for their cock. She’d never been able to figure out how she was supposed to accomplish that virtually. 

And then two legitimate responses: one from a submissive, and another from an unobjectionable fellow. 

His screen name was localothario. He had dark hair and an average frame. His eyes were brown, and unobjectionable. His message had been polite, and… 

...and she didn’t want him. His warm brown eyes reminded her of a spaniel, sweet and happy and dull, and that wasn’t her Five at all. So she saved localothario for another day, and switched over to the responses for paid services. 

She opened the first email, and let out a little gasp. The attachment had opened automatically, and Vanya had to stop herself from tracing over the laptop screen with the tip of her finger. This man… she wanted him. Whatever his asking price was, she would pay it, even if she had to turn off her heat. 

His hair fell across his forehead carelessly in that dark, New England-WASPy way they had; the $100 dollar haircut that looked effortless and accessible. His jaw was shadowed by a hint of stubble, but Vanya didn’t care, because his eyes were green and glaring and challenging, like he was daring her to find fault with his image. 

The body of the email was brief:  _ $170 an hour. We meet at the Empire Inn. I agree to your rules, with a stipulation of my own: you’ll be naked.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ John.  _

It was so obviously a pseudonym. She loved it. With a fake name that bad, she could pretend just a little bit more. 

Vanya messaged him back, asking about his availability, and he replied almost right away. 

_ Tonight. 7pm. I’ll message you the room number.  _

Vanya looked up from her computer to gaze sightlessly out the window. It wasn’t a Friday, her usual day for these assignations, but then, nothing about this particular man felt normal. She looked back at his picture, and her mind was made up for her: she was going to meet him, and she was going to pretend. 

Vanya showered carefully, shaving all over until she was smooth and sleek and hairless, which was how she preferred to be. She dabbed the best perfume she could afford between her breasts and behind her ears, and then she was ready. 

~~~

When the hotel room opened, her heart was pounding wildly in her throat. That was silly, she’d done this plenty of times before, but— 

The door swung open, and John looked out at her. He was beautiful, and perfect, and backlit by the little green desk lamp inside the hotel room. His hair was just like in his picture, but the five o’clock scruff was gone. His shirt was white and collared and crisp beneath a dark suit jacket, and his shoes… well, his shoes looked heavier than she’d expected. Like a work boot made of $200 leather. 

“Vanya,” he said quietly, stepping back to allow her inside. 

His voice was perfect. Confident and short, with a slight lengthening of the last “ah” in her name, a microscopic and breathy caress. 

“John,” she replied, slipping out of her cardigan and dropping it over the back of the narrow desk chair. 

“You’re prettier than you were in your pictures,” he said, watching as she fiddled around in her purse to pull out her STI results. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, watching as he unfolded his own doctor’s note from his back pocket. “Compliment me.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” said John, his eyes intensely focused on her face. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Vanya tried not to give into the awkwardness. “That must not be particularly helpful in your line of work.”

Next she sat the ATM envelope of cash on the desktop. Five— no, he was  _ John,  _ she couldn’t start the game yet— John’s eyes flicked from the money and then ran down Vanya’s body like a caress. “Strip,” he said. 

With trembling fingers Vanya started to comply. She undid the top button of her oversized tunic, and then flicked open the next, all while feeling John’s hot gaze on her. 

“You seem nervous,” he asked, cocking his head to one side. “Your ads had been up long enough that I thought perhaps you’d done this before.”

“I have,” said Vanya. “But most men had better customer service than you.”

One of John’s eyebrows rose, and he gave her a sardonic little smile. “Are you complaining,  _ sister?” _

_ Fuck,  _ but the way he said that. His arrogance was making this so much better. 

“Not at all,” Vanya murmured, pushing her shirt off and letting it fall carelessly to the floor. 

She tabbed open her skinny jeans, and then big hands were batting hers away and drawing down the zipper. John was so close she could smell him, all cedary aftershave and clean male deodorant. 

“You’re so little,” he said, pressing his palms against the jutting bones of her hips like he was trying to measure her. “Sweet little Vanya.”

She should have brought extra cash. She’d need to tip this guy. 

He crouched when he pushed down her jeans and panties, and then she was left standing in front of him in nothing but a bra, while he wore clothes that looked like they’d been tailored to fit him. 

“Cute,” he said, stepping in close to reach around and unhook her utilitarian black t-shirt bra.

He didn’t move away once she was naked. He boxed her in, holding her close while walking her backwards towards the bed. In one quick move he scooped her up, held her close, and kneeled on the bed while laying her down on her back against the polyester cover. 

Vanya squeaked, and John grinned. “How many men have you been with like this, you picky thing?” he asked, making a space for himself between her legs. “Can you remember them all?” 

Vanya huffed a surprised little noise when he palmed her cunt and rocked the heel of his hand against her clit. “Do you even know how many men have been in this pussy?”

Maybe he got off on that, on being with a woman who’d fucked nearly as many people as he had. It wasn’t turning her off, so she let him continue. 

“You look so sweet,” said John, winnowing his fingers through her folds, seeking the wetness that was beginning to develop there. “If I saw you on the street I’d never guess that you were the kind of girl to buy sex. I certainly wouldn’t peg you as the kind of girl who’d fuck her brother.”

Vanya whimpered and reached for him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and the other around his bicep. This was so filthy,  _ she  _ was so filthy, and yet it was working for her so well. 

“Nobody wanted me,” said Vanya, arching into his touch as he lowered his mouth to her breast. “Except him. We grew up together. Adopt— ohgod— adopted.” She arched as John rubbed her clit just this side of too hard. 

John caught Vanya’s hand and tugged it down to feel the place where they were joined; where she was speared open by his latex-clad cock. “I want you,” he said. “This is for you.”

Vanya whimpered and traced her index finger over the rim of her pussy, and felt the twitch his cock gave at the attention. She wouldn’t correct him, and remind both of them that this hard-on was only hers for the next forty-five minutes. This was for her, her Five, come home to her at long last. 

“Did he know?” John asked, rocking into her a little more roughly, letting her hips absorb his impact. If he kept this up Vanya would be sore tomorrow, and she welcomed the ache, because that meant it had  _ happened.  _ That meant she could feel something, anything at all. 

“Did your brother know you wanted him like this? That you loved him?” 

“Yes,” Vanya whispered, staring up into those focused green eyes. “I think he knew.”

“You never told him?” he asked, and his mouth was open now, and Vanya had her calves wrapped around his waist: she could feel him breathing hard, could feel the thrum of his muscles as he worked into her with a harsh, unforgiving pace. 

She had hired him, and yet she was the one being used. 

“Five—” Oh fuck, she’d said it. “I need— I need—”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and dark. “I’ve got you.”

He braced himself over her more fully, she was looking up at his jaw now, and he had one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rubbed circles around her clit, around and around, just like she liked. 

John drove her up without pause or quarter, moving between her legs like a thoroughbred while Vanya’s thighs began to tremble and the muscles in her belly drew tight, so painfully tight, like they would snap under the tension, and then—

“Come now, little Vanya,” he growled in her ear, she she did. 

She seized around him with her back arching and her breath hissing between her teeth. Five— no, she was fooling even herself now, his name was John— clamped his teeth down over the seam of her shoulder and chased his own release, grinding into her cunt like he couldn’t stand to leave. 

For a few floating, lightburst moments, everything was warm and tingly and good. She was whole, and she was not alone. The man above her was handsome and clean and green-eyes and wanted her. 

And then John moved, catching the condom and sliding out of her, and the moment was over. She’d gotten what she’d paid for, and it had been everything she’d hoped. “Can I see you again?” Vanya asked, curling up to hug her knees to her chest as John tossed the condom and tucked himself back into the fly of his trousers. 

“Of course,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and meeting her eyes. “You’re my favorite little sister, aren’t you?” He kissed her on the forehead, and Vanya took in the scent of him one last time. 

She managed to hold in the tears until the door had quietly clicked shut behind him. 

~~~

She did see him again. She took down her ads on each and every sight, because on the second and fourth Fridays of every month, she met John for sex. And it was almost foolish to call it sex, because she’d never fucked like this in her life. It really was better with a partner you were comfortable with, and who knew all the little things that made her shiver. 

~~~

Six months after Vanya had had sex with John for the first time, she met him at her apartment instead of a hotel.

“Hey,” she said shyly, opening the door and stepping back to let him in. 

John had on a long, navy-blue peacoat with pretty gold buttons, and was so distracted by how handsome he was that she jumped when he hooked his cashmere scarf around her neck to tow her in for a kiss. 

“Miss me?” he asked, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the rack next to her own. 

“Of course,” said Vanya, pressing her fingers to his chest. “I thought maybe you might have gone home for Christmas.”

“I was born in the city,” said John, looking speculatively around her apartment. “I am home for Christmas.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

“What about you?” John asked, looking from her bookshelves to her. 

Vanya shrugged. “You’re my Christmas present,” she said, and instead of sounding cheesy, it just sounded… sad. 

John studied her for a moment. “Then I’d better make it good.”

In a quick lunge he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Vanya landed with an  _ oof,  _ losing her breath as his shoulder dug into her solar plexus. John smacked her on the ass. “Bedroom?” he asked. 

“To the left,” said Vanya, and then he was striding alone, as unimpeded by her weight as he would be a legal briefcase, before dumping her back on her feet. She swayed, and he smiled as he braced her. 

“You are so damn cute.”

Vanya faux-glared up at him, with his perfect dark hair and jawline that could nearly cut a girl’s thighs. “It’s your fault the blood all rushed to my head.”

“Poor little sister,” he said, more comfortable with this game now. “Poor sweet Vanya, being toted around like a little toy dog. I’d better make sure all your blood heads south again, shouldn’t I?”

He pulled her in close and kneed her legs apart, bracing her so that she was straddled over his thigh and could just touch the floor. “I love how tiny you are,” he said conversationally. “Like a little doll for me to fuck.”

Vanya felt herself go wet at that, and her hips started rocking herself against his leg. 

Five braced her with one hand and used the other to tug her thermal shirt off from over her head. “Prettiest little tits,” he mumbled, cupping one before roughly tweaking her nipple. Vanya had stopped wearing bras on the afternoons when she knew he was going to come over. It would only get in their way. 

“They aren’t much,” Vanya breathed, grinding a little harder. 

“Pale and soft,” said John, before tugging her nipple between his teeth. Vanya hissed and arched, and her cunt clenched in time with his hard sucks. “And responsive,” he added with a low growl. 

He continued to mouth at her neck and toy with her tits, and Vanya wondered if this was some new game; if he’d only fuck her after after she’d soaked not only through her own pants, but his as well. She’d chafe raw well before that happened, and over the last six months Vanya had learned that she’d love every minute, in pain or not.

“John,” she said, tugging gently at his hair. “Please, please, c’mon.”

“What do you say?” he asked, using her hair to tilt her face up to his. 

“Please, brother,” Vanya whispered, high and breath. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “What a good little sister.”

He carried her by the hips to the bed, and as soon as he dropped her on it he was stripping her jeans down and off. 

Vanya shivered a little when he cupped her cunt, gently rubbing his fingers in circles all over her mons and labia. “You’re very wet,” he told her seriously. “But not wet enough.”

Vanya made a confused noise and reached for him, so composed and beautiful in his crisp white shirt and vest and wrinkle-free trousers. 

“I think you need to be much, much wetter than this to earn my cock, don’t you?” he asked. 

Vanya had been right. It did very nearly hurt at the end, as he drove her up over and over only to leave her hanging, sparking like exposed wires after a storm, only to have her cool off before doing it over and over again. She was in tears by the time he let her come, and once he’d trashed the condom he wiped her down with a cool washcloth and pulled her into his lap. 

“Don’t you feel better?” he asked, tucking the top of her head under his chin. 

Vanya nodded, clutching at the white shirt he still wore, though it was wrinkled and untucked and thoroughly rumpled. 

“Such a good girl,” he said. “You waited so patiently didn’t you?” 

_ She had,  _ Vanya thought to herself, growing sleepy in the warmth of his body.  _ She’d waited so long to find him again, and she’d waited so long to come. _

He’d been with her for well over an hour, just as he had been the last several times they’d met. Maybe it was some kind of frequent flyer discount: he was by far the most expensive man she’d paid for. 

“You’ll be sore enough to feel me on Christmas morning, won’t you?” 

Vanya made a wordless little noise of agreement. 

“And you took it so well,” said John, stroking his hand over her hair. “Such a soft, strong girl.”

As she drifted off she felt John rearranging her; laying her down on the pillow and pulling the spare blanket up over her curled form. 

“You,” he said, with his soft lips against her brow. “Are my very favorite sister. So patient for me, aren’t you. I just hope you can be patient a little longer.”

~~~

Her handcuffs rattled and her body hummed. Warm summer air stirred around the room, and outside the city was alive with the energy of a June Friday night. 

She’d been seeing John for just over a year now, and as they’d grown more comfortable with each other, he’d encouraged her to allow him to try new things with him. Today he’d looped a pair of handcuffs through her brass bed and had kept her tied to the bed while he fucked her, moving her this way and that at his whim, much like the doll he often called her. 

“Alright,” he said gently, picking the handcuff key off the side table and stretching up to caress her wrist. “Alright, there we are sweet girl. Weren’t you good.” 

Vanya watched him unlock her right wrist like it was happening to someone else. She was floating on a sea of endorphins and borrowed love, and in that warm, drifting place nothing could hurt her. He was so handsome, so familiar and beautiful, even with the grey that had started creeping into his hair along his temples.

John drew her right wrist down and rubbed gently at her shoulder joint, easing it back into its proper position. “Brave thing, aren’t you?” he asked, dropping a soft kiss to her lips. Then he reached for her left wrist, and her whole world changed. 

He was crouched over her, bracketing her with his knees, and when he stretched across her for her left wrist, the cuff of his pretty white shirt rode up enough for Vanya to catch the bottom edge of a devastatingly familiar tattoo. 

“Five?” she whispered, slowly looking from his wrist to his face as the cuff snicked open. 

His expression remained completely impassive, which was confirmation all on its own. He’d known this day was coming, knew she would recognize him eventually, and ...oh, this hurt. This was worse than the first week he’d been gone, when she’d been so desperately convinced that he wouldn’t really leave without her. 

This was worse than when she’d left the manor with no friends or prospects or connections. 

This was worse than the time she’d broken her wrist and had realized she didn’t have a single person who would come sit with her in the ER waiting room. 

He’d found her again, and he’d been lying to her this entire time. 

Vanya scrambled to get away from him, scrabbling towards the edge of the bed with no plan or dignity, only an imperative need to  _ get away.  _

Five— for it really was him, and it had been him the whole time— grabbed her by the ankle. 

“I’m going to explain,” he said. A statement, not a question. 

“Why should I let you?” asked Vanya, avoiding his beautiful, betraying green eyes. “Your actions are enough.”

“I found your profile during a ...case. An assignment I’d been sent on. And I couldn’t believe it, at first. That it could be you. So I did some digging, and there you were. Looking for men who looked like me, and asking them to call you sister.”

“But… if you didn’t want me to know you again, why bother me at all?” 

Five huffed out a breath. “Because I’m a bastard, Vanya. I was jealous of the men who were filling your cunt when it should have been  _ me,  _ when even you were pretending it was me. You’ve always been mine, sweet sister. We both know it.”

“But we could have… all this time!” Vanya burst out, feeling the sharp edges of anger breaking through her grief. “You’ve been toying with me all this time. Dumb little Vanya, good enough to fuck, but too clingy for anything else.”

“No,” said Five, leaning forward. His eyes were focused and deadly serious. “No. I’m not… here, much. It’s harder and harder for me to slip away from my employers to find you each month, but I couldn’t… it felt like I gave you up for good, you’d slip away and I’d never find you again.”

“Who do you work for?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I… kill people. People who have been watched, and marked to die.”

“Like for the CIA?” asked Vanya. 

“Yeah,” said Five softly. “It’s a lot like that.”

Vanya thought about it. “Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked. 

“Of course,” said Five. “I only have a year left on my contract, and then I’ll be free to leave; to leave without them hunting me down and putting everyone near me in danger.”

“So you were going to fuck me twice a month for two years, and then… what? Just tell me it had all been a lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” said Five urgently. “It’s all been true. You know that.”

“Wait— you took my money!” said Vanya hotly. “What was it, a game to you?”

“It wouldn’t have been believable otherwise,” said Five. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone, which he tapped a few times before passing to her. “I matched what you have me and invested it for you. According to my analysis, you’ll be wealthy in the next three years.”

Vanya looked at the line graph and balance total. “I gave you five grand,” she said. “This is—”

“$650,000, I know,” he said. “I’m as good with numbers now as I was when we were thirteen, Vanya.”

“And that’s mine?” 

“Yes,” said Five. “You can take some out if you need it, but I think the Proctor & Gamble stocks are going to spike in the next year or two.”

Vanya turned it all over and over in her mind, hating how much it hurt, and how much she still wanted him. “I missed you,” she said brokenly. “I missed you so much, and…”

Five couldn’t seem to help himself. He pulled her into him, tucking her into his chest and running the tip of his nose along her hairline. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said. “I wanted you so badly; I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to get back to you, and then when I found you again… I was too weak to stay away, even though I knew the Commission could hunt us both down.

“I’ve loved you since we were children, Vanya. You have to believe that, even if you don’t believe anything else.”

“I loved you too,” she said. 

“Past tense?” he asked, the lightness of his voice belied by the thundering of his heart. 

“Love you,” she corrected, fisting her fingers in the material of his stupid, obfuscating white shirt. 

“You’ll forgive me eventually,” said Five, kissing the top of her head. “You never could stay mad at me for long.”

“We’re adults now,” said Vanya. 

“So things have changed?” Five asked. 

“So I can think of a few ways you could start to make it up to me, even though I’m still really angry at you.”

“Alright,” said Five, his voice going low and dark. “You’re welcome to take it out on me anytime.”


End file.
